


agents don't go on dates

by reimgho



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: AU for MC, Agent!MC, Canon Divergence, F/M, I refuse to write a damsel in distress MC so I wrote a badass with personality MC, I said i wouldn't finish this but look where we are., Multiple chapters, also the vanderwood fic that was completely abandoned for two years, and then the secret stories, another spoiler: I'm gay for the MC, cheritz did say that VW is actually he/him, ish, so spoilers lol, so unfortunately it's gonna be he/him throughout, sorry lads - Freeform, spoiler alert: MC is hot, the RFA still exists, the vanderwood fic that no one asked for, then seven's route, there is a) another mc and b) this starts way before the RFA stuff, this should follow along with deep route, whilst I dig they/them pronouns for VW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reimgho/pseuds/reimgho
Summary: Working for an intelligence agency wasn't that bad in your opinion; your pay was into the extremes and your slightly sadistic boss wasn't too serious, making you feel only slightly threatened. Of course, the actual jobs aren't the prettiest of works, but you were good at what you did.
On a glorious Sunday, you had recieved a job that consisted of five words:
Kill Mary Vanderwood the 3rd.
How hard could it be?--------------------------->> an au where the mc is an agent for an opposing agency than vanderwood and is asked to kill him.





	1. first encounter

You began Sunday with the bright morning light pouring through your hotel blinds and the clock ticking monotonically as you cleaned your pistol.

Out in front of you lay the parts of your Kahr PM9s resting on a tray you snagged from the hotel’s cafeteria. Carefully, you inspected each and every part, making sure to meticulously check each and every nook and cranny. For you, this was what needed to be done; pick up, examine, clean, polish and finish. Pick up. Examine. Clean. Polish. Finish.

The clock went on as you did so and just as you reassembled the pistol, your own alarm went off.

You reached for your phone, stretching past your bedside table and reaching behind it, where you stashed your personal bag. It wasn't really a smart thing to do -- stashing your stuff there -- but you weren't relatively smart at one in the morning.

See, the thing is, you were doing your daily relaxation routine; laying at headquarters lounging room and binge watching episodes of shows that aren't legally allowed to be on TV whilst petting the office pet, Dave. To clarify, Dave was a parrot -- or a budgie, or kookaburra, or something with wings -- that was adopted by one of your coworkers in the office and she acted as some sort annoying roommate/comfort pet. As you were settling yourself down, getting comfortable enough to sleep, your phone's ringtone screeched into your ear which made you not only jump in surprise, but also scare the living shit of Dave which set her off at you.

The call turned out to be a job for you.

You were wondering why the organisation wasn't giving jobs lately, and speak of the devil they come. You picked up the gun, glancing at each side.

Working for an intelligence agency wasn't that bad in your opinion; your pay was into the extremes and your slightly sadistic boss wasn't too serious, making you feel only slightly threatened. And whilst the jobs you were given weren't always the prettiest, you were damn good at them.

The job detailed to you was one of the ugly jobs, but involved a lot of money and only consisted of five words:

Kill Mary Vanderwood the Third.

You cock your gun and point it at the door, aiming for the small peephole.

The information that was given to you was minimal at best, but it turned out that there wasn't much to know about him. He had long brown hair, brown eyes, tall and toned; in all, not the most interesting of targets. You did know that he had recently come from England and only went to Seoul for an undisclosed business trip. There were details that were sketchy -- in your opinion anyway -- but you really only needed to know the who, the where, and the when. Everything else was rather irrelevant.

Satisfied with your pre-mission routine, you began to pack up and prepare for the actual mission part of today, which was a simple 'put guns here' and 'change perfume now' and etcetera. You know, the typical stuff you needed to be unnoticed after killing someone.

After that was done, you stood up and checked the room for any more detail you might've missed, but the only thing that seemed to bother you was the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You mentally shoot the feeling in hopes it would piss off, and made off you merry way, hopping into the taxi that you had called for a few minutes earlier.

The taxi drive to was probably one of the most _taxing_ experiences of your life, considering the driver wouldn’t stop nagging you.

Over the top of the loud and obnoxious music, the driver, who introduced himself as Tae-hyun Kang, liked to talk loud and brashly. He'd obviously been interested in where you were going, so you assumed he did this to all his customers.

You sighed for the eighth time that hour.

“So, Miss Kim,” he addressed you by your alias, “did your boss send you to work even though it's Sunday? He must be super strict!”

“Yeah,” You answer flatly. “I guess.”

Ah, your boss. Mr Park. There was some element of truth to your words, as he was a little strict, however he was more sadistic than anything. The thing about Park is that he liked to see people squirm and be uncomfortable, and to be the one who caused it indirectly or directly. He wasn’t too bad in that regard, but when it came to punishment… You didn’t want to think about it.

You were glad that his personality was easy-going if you didn’t do anything wrong.

At long last, the taxi finally came to a halt at a sidewalk, presumingly where your destination stood. You quickly went to collect your bag in order to pay.

“How much will it be?” You asked.

He tapped the tablet inside the taxi, inputting numbers here and there, and let out an affirmative ‘hmph’. “That’ll only be 8,650 won, Miss Kim. Shall I pick you up from here at a later time today?”

“No,” you handed him the money and began to exit the car, “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Mr Kang.”

“Call again soon!” He smiled, before you closed the door of the car and walked onto the sidewalk.

In front of you was the large office building that was detailed in your target’s dossier. It was like any other office building in Seoul, though you admitted that it was one of the smaller ones.

You walked over to the building’s entrance -- a large glass sliding door with a sensor overhead -- and decided to take a glance through the doors. Nobody was inside from the looks of it, thank God. You glanced at your watch. 6:22 AM. Perfect.

Instead of trying to go in through the front entrance, you walked around to the other side of the building where the fire escape door would be. Once you got there, you dropped your bag before taking a look around. There were no cameras at this angle, which worked for you, so you took it as a sign to pull out the crowbar in your bag.

Crowbar, meet Door.

You hooked the crowbar between the door.

Door, meet Crowbar.

But before you pushed, you saw what looked like…

… another sensor?

Realization hit you. You dropped the crowbar and groaned against the door. This door would ring if forcibly opened, meaning you needed an electromagnet, but you didn’t have an electromagnet on you because you were tired! You banged on the door in frustration which flung the door wide open.

That was a shocking discovery.

No alarm.

No trouble.

Instantly your _own_ alarms were ringing in your head. Besides the fact that the door was now wide open, it only meant two things:

1\. Someone else must’ve brought an electromagnet and left the door open.  
2\. That someone else would be in the building right now.

You slowly took off your coat revealing your utility belt and the little things hooked on it ( smoke bombs, gum and a couple throwing knives ) and then added one of the Kahrs to the gun hook, whilst gripping the other. You contemplated whether or not to take the bag inside, but you figured that you'd exit the same why you came and pick it up later.

Quietly, you stepped through the door and into the building.

It was as you expected, really, with a staircase to your right leading upwards and a corridor that probably led to the main foyer on the building’s ground floor. You decided that going upstairs was probably your best bet, remembering you didn't see anyone when you looked through the main doors before.

You managed to walk up a couple of flights of stairs before noticing that the emergency exit door for the level you were one was slightly ajar. Whoever was in here, they were in a rush, enough so to be sloppy.

A thought rushed into your head. What if they were after your target? You gritted your teeth. No way in hell would they take your job.

You move towards the door and push it slightly, giving yourself more room to look into the level. All you could really see were office desks, printers, brown hair, a--

wait, brown hair?

As if attempting to enhance your vision somehow, you squinted at what you were seeing.

It was definitely a tall person with light brown hair, wearing a black coat. They were rummaging through something (which you couldn't see as they were blocking the view) but they hadn’t noticed you. Yet.

Your first thought was to assume that this was your mystery man™ who had broken in before you, however something clicked in your head.

This was probably Vanderwood.

He had light brown hair. This person had light brown hair. Both are here in the place where Vanderwood was said to be. Surely this wasn't a coincidence.

You smiled to yourself. This was going to be easy.

With great care, you slowly opened the door and aligned your gun to his head. Easy kill, easy money.

Instantly you pull the trigger, and the job is done.

In an ideal world, of course.

Instead, your body decided to express it's sincerest love for the ground by tripping over a trash can which was so annoyingly placed in the middle of the pathway.

The loud sound caused Vanderwood(?) to turn around, and yes! You were right; this figure matched the image you were given of Vanderwood and you were safe to assume that he was your target. Good job on finding him so effectively!!

On the other hand, he now totally knew where you were and probably also what you just attempted to do. Not-so good job!!

In fact, bad job!!

In your shock, there was only one logical thing you managed to do, which summarised your feelings on the matter.

“That's unfortunate.”

The next few seconds were a blur because your normal businessman target Vanderwood pulled out a gun and started to shoot you which wasn't ideal.

Due to your fantastic and incredible skills (and not sheer luck), you managed to create a diversion and slip away, but you were beyond pissed.

Park had lied to you, no, the client had lied to you! Normal target your ass! You may have had ruined your initial killing shot due to your own carelessness, however that didn't dampen the fact that you were facing either a cop, a psycho, or better yet, another agent! 

Now you were here, in a silent, darkly lit office complex hunting down an armed and dangerous target on Level who-the-hell-cares, and you didn't even know where the target was!

You were going to _kill_ Park.

You sigh internally. Though the mission wasn't supposed end up like a cat-and-mouse hunt, it did and… Well, you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy them.

It was the weekend. Though it's not recommended to kill people as a weekend past time, you felt entitled to enjoy it.

Muffled step by muffled step you walked through the office, gun at the ready. You kept moving through the office cubicles and at the third printer so far you turned, and 

Oh.

Oh?

Your eyes locked onto your target’s. Shit.

Quickly, you managed to dive behind a cubicle for cover in the nick of time. Luckily for you, you managed to avoid the shots that were fired at you-- making you really appreciate your reflexes a little more-- and took a moment to assess the situation. Run over what you knew.

The place.

It was an office building around busy traffic, very large with multiple floors. Whoever would come here to work would be very surprised at the suspicious looking bullet holes. Regardless, there was a limit on hiding places, and thus would suck in hide-and-seek. The fire exit could be reached through two doors and then you travel down stairs to exit the building.

The supplies on hand.

Two pistols both fully loaded with six bullets each.You had a couple of small smoke bombs on your utility belt plus some gum right beside them, in case you needed something to chew. Last but not least, three small throwing knives at your thighs, secure and ready to fly. Aye aye, captain!

The target.

Mary Vanderwood. The third, no less. Not much was on him, admittedly, but you knew that he had long brown hair, brown eyes, was tall and toned and moved to Seoul from the UK for a business trip. 

You thought angrily to the gun that he had tried to shoot you with. ‘Yeah’, you hissed internally, ‘’a business trip’...’

You pushed aside your anger and raised your gun. This was the time to focus.

Vanderwood was taking cover across from you, past the office cubicle you were behind. That basically meant that the moment you stepped into open ground, he would have a clear shot at you. Of course, that meant you have a clear shot, but it would definitely take more time to align your aim.

You established that poking your head out wasn’t a great idea and contemplated the smoke bombs. They would be perfect for creating a smokescreen to either move cover or even create an opportunity to shoot--

Suddenly, the sound of someone’s loud and obnoxious ringtone echoed through the offices and GOD that was _your_ loud and obnoxious ringtone.

You dug out your phone from your back pocket and looked at the caller ID. Caller ID ‘boss’ was calling.

Ah, Park, the man you didn’t want to hear right now.

“I’m in the middle of something, Mr Park,” You said behind gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I realised. That means you’re still on that Vanderwood case, right?” He sounded oddly cheerful, making you suspicious.

“Yeah… why? What’s the problem?” You looked towards where Vanderwood’s general direction was, in case he decided to move while you were distracted. To check, you grabbed a pen and threw it into the corridor and as sure as rain, it was shot at. Still there it seemed. “Look, I kinda realised that he was armed already, so if you’re calling to inform me, I’ll settle for an apology.”

He laughed over the phone. “That’s cute, Delta, but no. I’m calling to tell you to disengage and head to the Nest.”

“Right now?!” You were shocked. No way were you leaving this job incomplete. “It’s been _less than a day_ \--!”

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Delta.”

That shut you up.

You paused before responding tentatively. “Understood. Delta, out,”

You returned the phone to your pocket, and then took your smoke bombs. It was the quickest way to exit. With a glance to where the fire escape door was, or at least it’s general direction, you threw the bombs towards the hallway and as close to Vanderwood as you could imagine.

Upon impact, a large smog of smoke filled the hallway and was slowly spreading to the office cubicles around it. Taking no time to stay and chat, you sprinted towards the exit, careful to jump over any trash or obstacles.

Luckily for you, it only took you a minute or so to rush down the stairs of the fire escape and you were out of the door as quick as you came. As you burst through the still-open door, you scooped up your stuff and closed the door probably behind you. It wouldn’t do much to stall him, but there would still be some seconds extra for you.

You put on your coat quickly and quietly camouflaged yourself with the passing crowd of people. Silently, you thanked the fact that the coat was a good enough disguise. From there, you glanced at your watch. 7:02 AM. The interaction with Vanderwood didn’t take that long, it seemed.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. “Guess I should see why Park wanted me back.” You whispered to yourself.

It better had been important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao  
> I am THIRSTY for vandereood but i have no writing capabilities so please enjoy my shitty writing
> 
> Ill try to make the next chapter longer haha
> 
> EDIT: I've rewritten this as of the 4th of April, 2018.  
> SO it's genuinely been years since I even touched this, but I'm back on the Vanderwood train, and hopefully I'll try to keep to an updating schedule. So far, I'm going to rewrite the chapters so far, and then release the third chapter ((which will have apology art!)).


	2. outshining park; the plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah?? I'm really happy about all the positives????? thanks im cryin;;;
> 
> also, i forgot to mention but the mc's codename is delta!

"You want me to what?"

After the little event with Vanderwood, you had returned to your agency's Headquarters under Park's orders and cane to find out a few things.  

The agency's hackers pleasantly found out that Vanderwood was actually another agent who had a constructed identity. He, no, they had only been an agent for at least two years, from what the data showed, and usually managed to complete their job well. Although, someone was still keen on their death which meant you still had a job to carry out.  

Continuing, you were also informed that there was a WAT event soon (and by soon, you meant in a couple weeks time). A WAT (Welcoming Agents Together) event was an event held every year, especially for intelligence agencies. The idea behind it was that all leaders or bosses of each agency would attend the event, usually a three course dinner with dessert, and socialise with each other, but nowadays it was used as a tool to know other agencies weaknesses. After all, liquor loosens up many tongues, and a lot of information is thrown about during the night.  

Unfortunately, the bosses invited have an opportunity to select an agent from their agency to go in their place. The option was supposed to be for when you were sick or dying, but many bosses have sent their subordinates because they were lazy.  

At your agency, every year, an anonymous vote is called upon to select the 'lucky one' to go to the event, and due to your absolutely terrific luck, you had to go!  

Great.  

Now, you were in Park's office, disbelief washing over you. 

"Delta, I just want you to--"

You scowled, interrupting what he had to say, "I know, I just can't believe it!" You pinched the bridge of your nose and then proceeded to rub your temples. "Why did you guys vote when I was on a mission? Talk about unfair."

"You weren't there at the appointed time!" Park's voice adopted a mix between a whine and a sort of teasing tone. "As punishment, you were voted to go. Simple!"

Laying your head back on the chair you were sitting on, you groaned. "What about Vanderwood? What do I do about them?"

"Leave them alone for now. As of this moment focus on tying up on your paperwork before going back to field." You watched as Park reached for his computer mouse and gazed up to look you in the eye. "I'll try to send someone on Vanderwood's case, but until then sit tight, would you?"  

"Yes, sir." A slight tinge of annoyance stained your voice, but nonetheless you got up and exited the office, giving a salty smile to your coworkers when you passed.

When you reached your own desk, you saw piles of paperwork, as if they were buildings in a city and your desk was the ground. You sighed, no, it was more of a sigh-like groan? Whatever it was, it didn't matter.

In all honesty, you still wanted to ponder on the thought of your target. You had only seen them once, but something about them stood out... 

You pulled up your hands behind your head as you leaned backwards, placing your feet on the hard plastic of the desk. The thud of your feet shook the table ever so slightly.

Again, you sighed -- you were sighing a terrible deal lately -- and sat up properly in your chair (though after some difficulties; you accidentally knocked over a pile of papers). It was going to be a long working day.  

\----

Of course, you did manage to see Vanderwood again; you actively sought them out in order to complete the job. You refused to have a blotch on your resume, seeing as that was your selling point as an agent, and you decided, no, you swore, that they would die by your hand.

The second time you met them, you nearly blew up.

It was a Wednesday, rainy and humid. You remember rain as you face hit the gravel of a cabin front, you remember comparing the coolness and humidity of outside to the dry flames of the explosion that bitterly forced you onto the ground in the first place. Originally, you were chasing a rumour of a rogue agent selling off information to underground dealers, though it had evolved to chasing said agent through the woods, whilst competing with Vanderwood. See, it seemed that they too had caught wind of ill dealings, and decided to instigate their own investigation.

One thing led to another, and another and eventually, inside as fore-mentioned cabin, you were careless enough to trip, not on some insignificant thing like a bucket, but unfortunately something a little more dangerous; a tripwire. Of course, tripwires are meant to be tripped on, but you thought you surely weren't as dull or incompetent to not be able avoid a wire.

You did see Vanderwood a couple times after that, however they were mere glances and never did you meet their gaze or interact with them. Besides, you had better things to do than seek after someone; the WAT dinner was rescheduled to arrive earlier, so that meant you had less time to do anything and less time to start picking out a suitable outfit.

Out of everything in the WAT event, the outfit you wear is your most important factor. Not only did it display wealth and power, but a good outfit was one that could draw out information without needing to pull out a gun. 

Last year, your agency bribed Park to go and you and your co-workers pooled in money to buy contact lenses, a hair styling session and a limited edition Brunello Cucenelli Three piece. And, god,

Park looked good.

Really good.  

That night, he had managed to seduce nearly half the guests and your agency had dirt on so many important people that you swore you could get into military and defence headquarters whilst strolling inside carrying a bomb.

You couldn't let Park outshine you in the looks department, not with HIS usual face, therefore the same luxury was necessary.

Luckily for you, money was of no concern; you easily had one of the highest paying jobs within Seoul, perhaps even the whole of Korea, so you were sure that you could afford top quality. What mattered now was the actual clothing.

You comfortably laid your head back on your couch (a newly aquired piece, as the old one got blood on it; you certainly didn't want to clean that), with multiple fashion catalogs open to different dresses.

Red dress? No, too flashy and cliche. You want to leave a strong impression, not a sense of deja vu.

Hmm... Gre-- no, the colour of envy doesn't suit you at all.

The process of even finding a colour was tedious and at times overbearing; you had already felt drained. Though this was why everything had to be prepared and thought out way before the event started.

Once you went over a couple more colours, you decided to flip through a catalog of sorts, obviously meant for those with wealth. You could tell by brands inside, and how many items boasted about red beryl (which you had to admit looked very nice) necklaces, and more of the like. Nothing you saw was interesting or enough, for that matter, so you carelessly threw it onto the coffee table in front of you.

It must've been fate, that the perfect dress was on the back cover. It wasn't tight, from the looks of it, and the way the main violet of fabric covered the left shoulder and a golden series of chains on the other, reminded you of royalty. The dress looked as if there were ripples cascading diagonally from the left, dissipating into the dress, and 

oh GOD look at those heels the model was wearing? You couldn't see them clearly but they were gold as well, but still had a simple and shiny style to them.

You searched for contact details, running to retrieve a laptop and input the address;

oh, you were SO going to outshine Park.


End file.
